Crystal Blaze
by Tuxedo Starr
Summary: Invasions. Witchery. Another threat to the universe. Just another day in the lives of the Senshi, ne?


Crystal Blaze  
  
An Original Fanfiction by Tuxedo Starr  
  
Well, minna . . . here's another one . . .  
  
I am SO terrible at keeping one story going at a time . . . and I still have to post the Enchantress Chronicles. *sigh* But I let my mind wander (not to mention, I saw a mondo-cool sprite of Mistress Nine . . .) and I was bored . . . and I just went to Borders and saw some neat fantasy books and pics . . .  
  
So here it is!  
  
Oh yeah, disclaimers . . . I don't own Sailor Moon. K?  
  
And one NOTE: This fic is something I threw together in a fit of boredom on the Friday after Thanksgiving (2002), and it incorporates some random ideas I wanted to include in a fic. So this may go through some revisions. Minor? I think not . . . May have some weird couples, some odd happenings . . . The usual!  
  
~Crystal Blaze~  
  
Chapter One: Crystal Clear  
  
"Soon, I shall have all the pieces to the Sacred Circle! Then domination of the universe shall be complete! I shall possess the Key to the Cauldron, the Staff of the Ultimate! . . ." cackled a long-haired black, very feminine figure. Her long, wavy hair billowed around her as her form- fitting dress, skin, and hair glowed with a sickly purple light. She raised a clenched fist to the sky and laughed wildly.  
  
"Oh, for all things dark and horrid! Lislan, can you SHUT UP?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!!!!!!!!"  
  
An equally dark, feminine, long-haired, tall glowing figure-this one radiating a bluish-purple-grey light-stormed into the darkened room and beaned the insane figure with a large chalice. Lisslan crumpled prone to the floor.  
  
"All right!" the new figure roared, spinning to the five figures huddled in the corner, where they had retreated in fear of Lislan's sudden, periodical, run-of-the-mill insane antics, and her sister's growing frustration. (This tended to happen often. The commander of The Battlestar was renowned to be partially . . . well, completely insane. Psycho. Off-the-beaten path, what have you.) "WHO forgot to give her her medication?!?!?!?!?!!!" she demanded in a voice of thunder that blew air reeking of sulfur directed at the unfortunate quintet. The tallest one sneezed.  
  
"Um . . . er . . ."  
  
The shadowed figures (having no light radiation of their own) stammered for an excuse as to why the medication had been flushed down the Battlestar's only toilet.  
  
"Um . . . Astran did it?" the ponytailed girl squeaked, pointing a diminutive, self-righteous finger at the tall one who had sneezed. The shadowed face of Astran showed shocked surprise, knowing full well that it had been his companion's fault that the white pills had disappeared down the white porcelain bowl and dissolved into nothing but white murkiness and smoke (accidentally of course . . . had Celesta's mischievous nature ever extended to purposefully harm one of their leaders, her snide, ponytailed head would have rolled from her shoulders).  
  
"Oh, really?" the Sulfurous One sneered, her ruby red lips pulling back from her perfectly white teeth (the canines of which extended into fangs, much like a vampire's). She extended a glowing finger at the unfortunate leech-boy of the ship. Astran whimpered as the bluish glow coalesced into a bright sphere around the black fingernail of the extended digit.  
  
There was a burst of flame not unlike a cheap special effect in a musical that shot from her finger to land at the poor boy's feet. Astran yelped as the fire exploded on his toes with a shower of sparks and billow of smoke, and leapt up, jumping in a circle on his good foot and clutching his toe in pain. Small whimpering sounds emitted from his throat like a hungry cat mewing desperately for milk.  
  
"SIT!!!!!!!!"  
  
Astran sat.  
  
Two tiny tears trickled down his cheeks, but the boy stopped whimpering. The remaining glow of the spell showed tiny rivulets down a finely chiseled face with a square jaw, short sandy-blonde hair in a crew cut, and silvery- blue eyes. His soft lips turned down in a frown.  
  
Celesta, sitting on his right, snickered silently and good-naturedly. However, Celesta's twin, Cindra, identical to Celesta in every physical attribute but hair color (Celesta's hair was a dark reddish black; Cindra had fair gold-white hair pulled back in an identical ponytail), sitting on Astran's left, wasn't as subtle: her face, lit by the same blue glow, was caught in a wide grin as she suddenly guffawed loudly, the chortle ending in a loud snort.  
  
The commander glared. "Don't MAKE me start with you! . . ."  
  
"I AM MASTER OF THE UNIVERSE! MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!! . . ."  
  
"Oh, dammit! Hold that thought."  
  
Thislan tightened her grip on the chalice in her left hand as the purple figure of Lislan rose up behind her, hands raised to the sky, head tilted back, mouth open in insane laughter. Without averting her gaze from the ship-grubs in the corner, she swung her hand in a wide arc.  
  
The chalice connected squarely with Lislan's face, throwing her unfortunate twin for a spin or two until she fell to the ground again, silent and unmoving as a sleeping lamb. Not that evil could ever LOOK as peaceful as a lamb . . .  
  
"There. Now, where were we?"  
  
"Ah . . ." the little boy sporting shaggy, dark hair stammered, his emerald- purple eyes flashing nervously. "You summoned us here . . . because . . . ?"  
  
Celesta looked at him. The boy glanced at her and shrugged his shoulders, smiling sheepishly.  
  
"Oh. Well, as we started before SOMEone went insane on us"-Thislan glanced at the prone body of her sister-"because SOMEone didn't give her her medicine"-at this, she glared at Astran, who, in turn, glared at Celesta- "we believe that the last piece of the Circle Relic is here on this planet."  
  
A wave of her hand at the wall space on the cowering quintet's left, and the double sliding doors opened soundlessly. The fivesome scrambled to the opening to look out, crouching as to not block the view of their feared and admired leader, to look out across the spotless white marble hallway to the window that spanned the length of the opposite hall, the window that circulated around the entire saucer-like spaceship.  
  
There, amid a vast, glittering expanse of white, purple, and yellow stars, a spinning planet took up much of the black velvety sky. A small white orb circled the blue and white sphere. The five stared at its obvious beauty.  
  
"Oh, my," breathed the girl to the right of Cindra. Her shoulder-length wavy hair, its color indiscernible because it was so dark, swirled across her face as her black eyes widened at the astounding spectacle. "It HAS to be there . . ."  
  
"What's it called?" the small child wondered, the purple flecks in his emerald eyes widening as the blue light of the planet reflected in his eyes.  
  
Thislan, her hip cocked and her hand on her hip in a pose that said, I am the best and I know it, smirked. "Earth."  
  
. . . .  
  
"But anyway," she continued, spinning on a spiked-black-booted heel to walk away to the opposite side of the command room, "there's a problem to be dealt with. See those flashes of light?" she mused, spinning around to the opposite side of the plain, rounded table in the center of the room (that had appeared at her silent command) which had map coordinates in neon green glowing lights. She smiled at the back of her cronies' heads, which suddenly radiated confusion.  
  
"What lights?"  
  
Suddenly, there were ten flashes of brilliant-colored light that erupted from a small group of green-brown islands in the lower right corner of the planet; shining white, brilliant scarlet, icy blue, forest green, dazzling yellow, radiant blue-green, gleaming navy blue, solemn greyish-black, dazzling purple, bright gold, all arranged in a perfect circle. Their brilliance blinded the members of the crew and they clenched their eyes against the glare. Thislan, her eyes shadowed by the dimness of the room, smirked.  
  
"*Those* lights."  
  
"Ow! . . ." Astran muttered, rubbing his eyes. Celesta backhanded him upside the head.  
  
"Wimp."  
  
"a-HEM! NO interruptions, PLEASE!"  
  
Silence.  
  
Thislan continued as though nothing had occurred. "Those lights, those . . . *purities*," she spat the word as though it tasted vile on her tongue, "belong to the protectors of the planet."  
  
As she spoke, she made a slight gesture with her right hand, which rested on the table. The air in front of the huddled group fuzzed as though fog had filled the room, then coalesced into a shining white figure of a girl with long golden hair, dressed in colors of the stars, with shining wings. Her image flickered out, followed by eight other figures dressed in a similar fashion, wearing colors similar to the lights that had flashed on Earth. A short-haired girl wore colors of a frozen lake; the next wore flaming hues of red; another sported colors of the trees and a thunderous sky; the fifth wore gold. The next sported colors of the ocean; the short- haired woman to follow wore colors of a shifting blue sky; a solemn woman bearing a staff wore the colors of night; and the last had violet colors to match any emperor's robe.  
  
The last apparition to appear was of a tall man dressed in black, with a golden cape that shimmered with the colors of the sun. His handsome face was serious and kind. Astran, Celesta and Cindra's jaws dropped as their eyes turned to little hearts.  
  
"Any one of these people is a likely candidate for the last Shard," Thislan continued, letting the holographic image of the man fade, which dissipated like mist. The group turned back to look at their leader. Stars still shone in the eyes of the twins as well as the tall youth. "And, as well you know, once we have the complete Circle, we shall have access to the Crystal Flame, the life force of the Source."  
  
"Yes, lady," the dark-haired woman and the child murmured, heads bowed down, kneeling respectively.  
  
Thislan smiled. "And it's up to the five of you to find it."  
  
"Somehow, I was sure she was going to say that," the little boy muttered out of the side of his mouth.  
  
"She always sends us on *her* dirty work. Haven't you noticed yet?" the dark-haired beauty hissed back. Both ignored the look of complete bliss still strayed over the faces of the three they were flanking.  
  
Thislan and the two looked at the three lovestruck cronies, looked at each other, and rolled their eyes.  
  
"At any rate," the commander continued, magically drawing a shallow iron bowl out of thin air from the depths of the shadows of her cape, "my research indicates that these girls will be somewhat of a . . . challenge, if you will.  
  
*That* snapped Astran out of his love-at-first-sight trance. "Challenge?!" he squeaked out.  
  
"So, to make it easier," she continued, chuckling at the look of anxiety that suddenly crossed Astran's classic features, "we have this."  
  
And she placed the chalice on the table. The glowing green circles, lines, and numbers that made up the map winked out of existence. The five men and women stood and rushed to the table, peering into the depths of the pot in awe.  
  
The bowl was, at first glance, a simple instrument. The sides were plain black, no decoration whatsoever except for some curving ridges that ran along the sides. The pot was supported on three iron legs ending in lion's feet, similarly fashioned with the same curling carvings.  
  
However, if they looked too close, the carvings seemed to shimmer and blur in the dim light, before they seemed to move in twisting paths of their own accord. The patterns they wove didn't begin and never ended.  
  
Astran, Celesta, Cindra, and their companions blinked once. Twice. Three times in sync.  
  
"All right, all right, that's enough," Thislan snapped irritably. "Now pay attention."  
  
The five snapped their heads up to see their leader looking into the bowl. As one, they leaned over to look as well.  
  
The bowl seemed to have no bottom; blackness stretched endlessly down into unfathomable depths. As the six looked on, the rim of the bowl pulsated once with the bluish light of Thislan's aura, and then light and heat flared up in the bowl from the coals that had appeared there.  
  
Thislan began to chant softly, her black hair swinging over her face. The words she murmured were of no dialect any human knew, and in a language so ancient, only *they* knew.  
  
As she whispered, the embers grew brighter and brighter, until the heat was unbearable, and the Quintet felt that they had to avert their gaze . . . but they couldn't look away. Not as the embers shimmered and melted into a burning golden liquid which rippled out from the center as Thislan's voice rose in pitch and rhythm. Steam rose from the surface of the bowl and faint, misty, blue-white flames danced along the golden brew. The Quintet stared, mesmerized.  
  
Thislan suddenly broke off her chant long enough to reach up with both hands and pluck a single strand of onyx hair from its base at the center of her scalp. She dropped the silken, ebony thread into the golden surface, and the flame suddenly roared, leaping up in shades of red-orange, caressing their faces with heat.  
  
A sudden explosion rocked the ship and a shower of sparks and smoke erupted from the surface of the liquid. The cronies flew back against the wall as the room rocked and vibrated uncontrollably. Lislan's still, glowing body slid across the floor.  
  
As the vibrations settled, the Quintet looked up fearfully to see that Thislan was the only one who had remained standing, looking up at the smoke (which had remained after the explosion) in complete satisfaction. A small smile played across her crimson lips. The Quintet looked up as well.  
  
The bowl had produced an impossibly large amount of smoke, a sulfurous smelling cloud of grey that roiled and lapped at the ceiling viciously. The smoke seemed to heave with life of its own. The contents of the bowl had once again gone cold and black.  
  
As the six watched, the cloud swirled around the ceiling, plummeting toward the center into a small disc about the size of a saucer. The disc twisted violently, turning once, twice, three times, then spiraled down into a human-sized tornado of grey. Within the swirling mists, a form begin to emerge, taking on shape and features and form until it eventually became a smoky, airy woman with glowing slanted indigo eyes and long flowing white hair. Her classically beautiful face (high cheekbones, tiny nose, and all) bore a small smile on the colorless thin lips. Her flawless hourglass- shaped body was swathed in layers and layers of cloth made of the same substance of her body; this resulted in her skin and robes blending together as though there was no discrepancy between the end of the skin and the beginning of the cloth. She bore a slight semblance to Thislan.  
  
"Ah," the black-haired commander said, gazing with imminent satisfaction at the billowy figure which had floated to the floor of the control room, her bare feet hardly grazing the floor as the air held her aloft. The Quintet stared at the ghostlike apparition in amazement as Thislan turned her self- satisfied gaze to them with a smile.  
  
"May I present you to my Elemental Air."  
  
TBC . . .  
  
Well, I got that done in . . . *checks clock* three hours? Thanks to my dad using the computer at intervals . . . :p  
  
I don't like the ending here, (I'll change it, promise!) but I wanted to finish this chappie. I swear that I'll get to Enchantress Chronicles, tho!  
  
But Wow, minna! I think this chappie may be grounds for a totally different original story! Don't you? Some sci-fi/fantasy type thing, with Earth invasions . . . or whatever . . . Whaddya think?  
  
Review!!! *bows* I am SO insane, I know . . . I DID get serious at the end, though! You HAVE to say that! (Well, relatively serious . . .)  
  
Till later!  
  
Feathers Fly in the Sea-- Can a fairy tale ever come true? --Tux Starr  
  
"Hah! Ass-blaster! Blast your own damn ass! I KILLED ONE!" --from Tremors Two 


End file.
